


Malfunctions

by PilotintheAttic



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Androids, Consensual Sex, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Torture, connor has a puss, hank is good don't worry, in a 3:1 ratio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:37:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15077300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilotintheAttic/pseuds/PilotintheAttic
Summary: At first Connor had been pleased, excited, to work with someone so similar to himself.But that was two weeks ago, before he found out what the new RK900 android was really like.





	1. RK900 : Nicholas

It had been two weeks since Connor was assigned to work with the new, upgraded android on the force. At first he’d been pleased, excited, to work with someone so similar to himself. For the past several months since the revolution’s mostly-bloodless success, Hank had been on a forced sabbatical – partly at Connor’s request – which left few people at the station for Connor to work with. And unfortunately, most of the time this meant he was partnered with Detective Gavin Reed. Detective Reed didn’t antagonise him any more than usual, but he also didn’t antagonise him any less, either. So the arrival of the new RK900 model came as something of a blessing. It – no, _he_ – was an upgraded version of Connor’s prototype model, uncannily similar in appearance except for an extra handful of inches in height and cold blue eyes. The sight of another Connor had made Gavin swear until he was blue in the face, and Hank had got a great laugh out of that when Connor told him. The RK900 series was stronger, faster, and more technically advanced than the RK800, and Fowler didn’t waste any time in setting their new employee to work training Connor.

\--

“Doesn’t he have a name?” Hank asked one evening, as Connor placed a fresh cup of coffee at his elbow.

“I don’t believe so,” Connor said thoughtfully. “Detective Reed and some of the others have been coming up with names for him since he arrived, but I get the feeling that Captain Fowler wouldn’t like to hear any of them.”

Hank snorted.

“I’ll let you know if that changes, of course.”

\--

The android called himself Nicholas, eventually. He seemed not particularly bothered if he had to refer to himself with a human name or with his model number. Then again, he wasn’t particularly bothered by anything. Not all androids are deviants, Connor reminded himself. He tried not to think about the fact that ‘Cole’ was short for Nicholas.

That was two weeks ago, before Connor was assigned to partner with him. Before he found out what the android was really like.

\--

Androids don’t feel pain.

Connor knew this.

Nicholas knew this.

What they could feel, however, was a whole host of other sensations that could be likened to it. Connor wasn’t sure if he’d felt it before he became Deviant, but he sure as hell was feeling it now.

“Are you still with me, Connor?” Nicholas’ soft voice came from above him.

Connor squirmed, legs trapped under the other android’s larger frame and arms handcuffed past his head around a table leg. His LED cycled a steady yellow. “Yes,” he said levelly. “I am.”

“Good.” Nicholas shifted and Connor felt cool fingertips brush his skin as the rest of his shirt was unbuttoned. “I’m glad to have your… cooperation, Connor.” A carbon fibre hand pressed against Connor’s stomach, and he felt the erasing of his cosmetic skin as the interface began. He wriggled again, trying in vain to bring his elbows down to cover his exposed torso. Nicholas ignored it, focusing on prying open a specific panel on Connor’s left side.

“Don’t, you’ll damage-”

“Have I ever damaged any of your biocomponents? Be quiet.” The tone was firm. There was a click as the panel came loose, and Connor felt the cold air touch his innards. It was… uncomfortable. Part of his brain was telling him he needed to get that panel closed, some delicate tissues could be at risk if he didn’t shield them. He gasped ever so slightly, lips parting, as fingers prodded at the thirium-powered arterial structures. A strange sensation, of feeling but not feeling, made his body tense up every time. He thought maybe after a week he’d get used to it.

On the contrary, it only ever seemed to feel worse the longer it went on.

Nicholas probed further, hooking a finger around a particular cable and tugging slightly. Connor flinched, body attempting to curl up in defence, brain telling him not to displace those vital parts.

“Nicholas, please. That’s not supposed to be-!”

This time, Connor’s words were cut off sharply. The RK900 paused, hand frozen in space to hit him again, one eyebrow raised. Connor felt the skin of his cheek repair itself, and took a moment to compose his thoughts. Options: Endure. Fight [Error: locked]. Flee [Error: locked]. He closed his eyes. Waited. Endured.

The cable coming loose sent enough of an electric jolt that his LED flashed red, and he grit his teeth. His eyes closed, he somehow felt everything else in so much greater detail. Red warning menus flashed up momentarily but he dismissed them. It was fine. He was fine. He could feel Nicholas’ fingers digging past bundles of wires and synthetic muscle, and his brain unhelpfully supplied the part number of every item the other android touched.

“It’s rather…unsightly,” the android was saying, more to himself than to Connor, “These parts may have been top of the line a year ago but it’s undeniable how badly your internal structure compares to my own.” There was a thoughtful pause. “For example…”

[BIOCOMPONENT 27331cV CALIBRATION FAILURE]

[THIRIUM LEAKAGE: NON-CRITICAL]

Connor couldn’t help the ragged breath that escaped him. His body twitched and he twisted slightly towards his side, screwing his eyes tighter shut. He could feel the dampness of his blue blood trickling down his side, no doubt staining the white shirt beneath him. He didn’t need to look to know that the RK900 was holding the biocomponent in his hand, studying it with cold, calculating eyes. He heard the shuffle and clunk of it being put on the ground next to them, and braced.

[BIOCOMPONENT 81319Xb2 DECOUPLED]

[ENERGY SAVING MODE_ACTIVATED]

“Nicholas,” Connor breathed harshly, jaw clenched.

[ERROR: MISMATCH IN ELECTROMODULES S16MB TO S34KM]

“Stop it.”

[WARNING: THIRIUM CORE BALANCER UNSTABLE]

[WARNING: TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:48:12]

[BIOCOMPONENT 349Q SYNC LOST]

“Nicholas…!”

[WARNING: TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:03:28]

“N-Nicho…las. I’m. Shutting do-put it b-b-put. It back.”

The RK900 regarded the android beneath him for a moment, pausing in his fiddling with a loose biocomponent in his stained hands. His LED clicked a brighter blue as he assessed Connor’s situation, then he sighed and slipped the glowing blue object back into its slot. Connor’s body jolted under him as the component synced with the rest of the android, and Nicholas set about arranging the other various pieces he had removed or rearranged.

[WARNING: TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:0-:--

[WARNING: TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:35:42]

Nicholas watched the reactions with a blank, almost bored expression, eyes barely bothering to flicker over Connor’s face and arms before returning to the real point of interest, the tangles of cables and muscles so carefully installed – and so carefully removed. The smaller model had his elbows drawn together, hiding his face, but the muscles in Connor’s neck were twitching. The glow of the LED was barely visible – a bright, bright red, flickering and spinning rapidly.

RK900 clicked the last biocomponent back into place, and Connor gave an audible sigh of relief. His body finally relaxed and the LED in his temple cycled haltingly between yellow and blue. “Are…” he swallowed and tried again. “Are we done?”

“Yes, Connor,” Nicholas said brightly, shifting his weight off the android. “I believe we are finished for the day.” He reached forward, over Connor, and unlocked his handcuffs before standing up and adjusting his jacket. He watched as Connor sat up, shook out the tension in his shoulders from being kept in the same position for so long, and set about dressing again. There was a decent blotch of blue staining the white shirt, but Connor put it back on as if it was fresh out of the dryer. The damp thirium clung to his skin, sticky just like human blood.

Connor got to his feet, retrieved his jacket from the top of the table he had been handcuffed to, and shrugged it on – looking for all the world as if nothing had happened at all. He smoothed his hair back and looked up at Nicholas, who moved to unlock the door.

“Remember, Connor,” murmured Nicholas as the smaller android moved past him through to doorway and out to freedom, “no telling.”

Connor nodded, careful not to betray his emotions across his face. His LED blinked yellow, then back to a faint blue. “Goodnight, Nicholas,” he said, turning for the route to the main doors.

Nicholas smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Say hello to the Lieutenant for me.”


	2. Home, Hank Anderson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes home is a big soft human and a big soft dog.

The door closed with a thunk, drowned out by the indistinct voices from the TV. It had begun raining slightly during the taxi ride home, and Connor instinctively went to remove his jacket at the door. The sight of dried thirium on his shirt jolted him slightly – he’d forgotten somehow, on that quiet fifteen minute journey. Better keep the jacket on for now.

“Hank? I’m back.”

There was a mumbled groan of hello from the living room, muffled by something. Connor allowed himself a small smile; the voice had been muffled under 170lbs of dog. It was followed by a small “oof” of protest, but there was no way Hank would make Sumo get off him. That man, no matter how grouchy and foulmouthed he was to people (and androids), had a huge soft spot for the dog.

He even had a pretty soft spot for Connor, despite their rocky meeting a whole year ago. After the success of the deviants’ peaceful revolution, Hank had practically herded Connor back to his place. “CyberLife’s no home to go back to,” he’d said firmly. The relief had been…tangible. Connor had expected to say his goodbyes and part ways, now that he was Deviant and their mission was over. He’d expected to tag along with Markus and the rest of Jericho, free but unsatisfied. But what he’d _wanted_ , and been too afraid to ask, was to return to Hank and the DPD. He’d broken his programming, but that didn’t include forgetting his fondness for both the job and his Lieutenant.

 _His_ Lieutenant. Hank had a very strange look upon his face when Connor had called him that. In the months they’d been working and then living together, they’d shared a lot of strange looks. Sometimes Connor caught the lieutenant watching him, and Hank would cough and knit his eyebrows and turn pink. Sometimes it was the lieutenant who would raise an eyebrow as Connor brushed a little closer than usual while working, and the android’s LED would rapidly click to red and yellow. Connor never really knew what to call the feeling he felt around Hank, but it was definitely a very good feeling. A swelling ache in his chest cavity which he didn’t understand, but didn’t necessarily want to stop. Coming home to Hank and Sumo had a profoundly positive effect on his emotional stability, no matter what he’d faced during the day.

Connor kicked off his shoes and made his way first to the bedroom, shrugging off his jacket once he wasn’t in danger of being spotted. He hung it over the back of a chair, and deftly removed the stained shirt. Rolling it into a tight ball, blue blood hidden from sight, he placed it carefully at the bottom of the laundry basket. Hank usually just tossed everything in the washing machine at once, so he wasn’t likely to see anything. At least, it had been that way so far.

“Connor? Where’d you go?”

“I’ll be right out,” the android called. He fetched a big grey hoodie from his side of the bed, sighing happily as he shrugged it on. It was soft on the inside, far too big on him, and smelled like Hank and coffee and dog. He didn’t have many of his own things, except work uniforms supplied by CyberLife. Hank had offered to take him shopping to get clothes that didn’t have ANDROID plastered all over them, but Connor had refused. He was to be potentially working more cases with android victims and perps, so he reasoned seeing another android would make them feel less scared. Especially since he was known publicly as a deviant involved in the revolution. They’d feel like someone was on their side.

Connor entered the living room, where sure enough Sumo was spread out across the sofa – and somewhere underneath him was Hank. The dog raised his head as Connor approached, tail thumping steadily.

“Ger’off you big baby.” There was a tangled movement of limbs, and the mass of dog-and-human separated enough for Connor to squeeze onto the sofa as well. He tucked himself against Hank, in the little space between the backs of his knees and the sofa cushions, and Sumo quickly resumed his position as a living blanket for them both. Hank put one arm around Connor’s shoulders, and the android leaned into the warm human body. “Good day?”

“Mhm. It was the usual,” Connor replied, closing his eyes. He could hear Hank’s steady heartbeat, feel the slow rise and fall of his ribs. The comforting weight of his arm around Connor’s frame. Hank asked him this question every evening, and Connor always gave more or less the same reply. He didn’t want to mention that ‘the usual’ wasn’t ‘good’ these days. No point in worrying him. “Yours?”

“Dull as shit. Sumo didn’t want a long walk or anything, big lug just wanted to cuddle.”

Connor felt the corners of his mouth twitch up involuntarily. “And you let him.”

“Course I did.”

The hand on Connor’s shoulder was petting him gently, as if he was Sumo. Connor wasn’t sure if Hank knew he was doing it, but he wasn’t complaining. He could stay like this for hours. His own thin hands tangled up together, arms folded between their bodies. There was that very good feeling again, quietly aching in his chest. Hank could probably feel him fidgeting his hands, because Connor soon felt the rough scratch of the man’s beard as his lips pressed to his head. The very good ache swelled. Almost without thinking, he stretched his neck up to meet Hank’s lips with his own. He felt the human breathe a soft laugh against his face, and tasted traces of alcohol and salt. Familiar. Comforting. Peaceful.

Connor wasn’t sure when his relationship with the Lieutenant had crossed over from coworkers, to friends, to… this, but his memory placed the day after the revolution won as a turning point. He and Hank standing in the fresh snow, dawn breaking, at the closed Chicken Feed joint. Hank had pulled him in for a close hug, and Connor had hugged back, and suddenly Hank’s rough hands were on his face and Hank’s mouth was on his. Kissing him almost desperately, as if he’d vanish at any moment. And Connor had kissed back. He supposed that would be when they went from being partners to Partners, but nothing felt different. Just a natural progression in their relationship. Similar to the way he gradually drifted into Deviancy, rather than the sudden ‘snap’ other androids had described to him. It was comforting, not to be confused for once. Hank had always been totally honest with his feelings towards Connor, even when those feelings were less than positive. He always knew where he stood with him. Unlike with Amanda, or Kamski, or even RK900. They were all enigmas. Hank was clear as day.

The android slipped into standby mode as easily as if it was natural sleep, eyes closed and mouth ever so slightly ajar. There was no movement to imitate human breathing; he was as still as the dead. Only the faint blue flickering of his LED and the openness of his face showed Hank that he wasn’t permanently offline. Sumo had gone wild the first time Connor went into standby in his presence. The poor dog couldn’t tell a huge difference between androids and humans except their smell, and as far as he was concerned, all people needed to breathe. Even Hank had been startled the first time he’d woken up and rolled over to see Connor all but lifeless curled on the bed next to him. There were some things that took a lot more getting used to, when it came to living with androids.

But now, with Connor and Sumo both dead weights on top of him, Hank would say he’d gotten pretty used to it. Goodness knows what he’d been thinking when he’d lurched forward to kiss Connor on that snowy morning, but he was glad he did it. The shock of his own boldness made him want to immediately to drown himself in whiskey, but Connor had gently tangled his fingers in Hank’s hair and Hank could feel him kissing back. It was the closest Hank had ever come to understanding the phrase “short circuit.” The embarrassment and sudden fear made him want to apologise, flee his partner, but his body hadn’t obeyed and his mouth had instead said, “come home to me, Connor.” And that was that.

The Lieutenant Hank Anderson of a year previous would have laughed in his face.

No doubt would the rest of the station, which was a small part of why Hank was content for now to have the time off. Gavin, the insufferable bastard, would never leave them alone if he caught wind of the relationship. It was bad enough with him already, armed with just the knowledge that the pair were living together. Sooner or later they’d have to deal with it, since Connor never seemed to realise how plainly his body language betrayed his adoration. But not now, when androids were only just being recognised as people. A high-profile deviant and his detective partner falling for each other? The media would have an absolute field day. He didn’t really want to think too hard on what people like Gavin and Special Agent Perkins would say. Fuck those guys in particular.

No, things were good as they were now. Hank combed his fingers through the android’s soft hair, gradually loosening it from its workplace tidiness. He still wasn’t sure what Connor saw in a grouchy old drunk like him, but he was grateful for it. They kept each other safe both physically and mentally. Hank didn’t want to ever again see the sad look in Connor’s eyes from his last game of Russian roulette, and he knew Connor tried hard to understand human quirks – to understand Hank himself. It was a slow process, learning each other both inside and outside the context of their original mission, but Hank wouldn’t choose any alternative.

Connor coming home each evening made each day worth living. Hank still had bad days, of course, days where the weight on his shoulders was too much and Connor would find him all but passed out at the table with an empty bottle in his fist, and even Connor had rare bad days where he would walk briskly and silently through the door, LED clicking as it spun yellow, and he wouldn’t speak a word until he’d settled into the sofa with Hank and let himself calm down. He never wanted to talk about those days, but from what little Hank had pried out of him, it was usually the frustration of cases that wouldn’t crack; something that came with the job.

And sometimes, they had good days. Hank would leave walking Sumo until after Connor got back, so they could take a stroll together. Sometimes Connor would make a dinner that was fancier than usual. And sometimes, when Hank wasn’t too tired and Connor didn’t come home too late, they’d take things to the bedroom. (Now _that_ had been a whole new world, seeing as androids aren’t usually equipped for these sorts of activities).

Hank shuffled slightly, his arm gone a little numb, and Connor immediately came back online with a questioning look. Hank gave him a slight squeeze, yawned, and made clear he was going to nap as well. Connor’s eyes were warm; he smiled, and nuzzled back into Hank’s body in a fantastic imitation of drowsiness. Hank saw his LED indicate standby mode once more, and closed his own eyes.

Sometimes home is a recovering alcoholic, a deviant android and an enormous dog, all asleep in a pile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little retrospective, some insight to Hank and Connor's relationship and how they became where they are.
> 
> Twitter@Lakehounds


	3. Stress Levels: ---%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every day the same nightmare, every day somehow new.

The ragged breath Connor gasped out sounded somewhere between a groan and a whimper. He pressed his face into his shoulder, trying to muffle himself. He’d found himself once again pinned under the RK900, arms bound above his head and shirt and jacket completely off. In the evidence room this time. Error warnings lit up behind his eyes, turning his whole vision a blur of red for a moment, all jumbled letters and numbers and symbols. His mind too scattered to process what exactly the warnings were, only that a lot of things were very, very wrong.

Nicholas, the RK900, leaned back where he straddled Connor’s hips. His appearance was immaculate. White jacket folded neatly next to Connor’s on the desk, black dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, forearms bare and white, devoid of the synthetic skin, faint stains of thirium colouring his hands. His eyes were cool and focused, as was his LED. It was a stark contrast to Connor, whose hair was all mussed up, his body was overheating and twitching, cavities open from his collar down to his stomach. Had he had his eyes open, no doubt they would be glossy and dark from the stress. Speaking of which… Nicholas tilted his head, analysing Connor’s appearance and the rapidly spinning red LED.

[STRESS LEVELS: 76%]

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. Really, all this fuss. By his observations, it seemed the longer he worked on Connor, the more desperate the weaker model would become. Was it due to his deviancy? Or was it just because he was a buggy prototype? There was no rationality to his responses. Nicholas turned the biocomponent he held over, and placed it back into a port in Connor’s body. Not necessarily the correct slot.

It caused another strange whine from the android’s throat. Connor wasn’t ready to beg yet, but judging from their other sessions it wouldn’t take long now. A smile curled on Nicholas’ lips, eyes half lidded. He ran his fingers along the smooth metal cage that held Connor’s artificial lungs, feeling the heat emanating from it. 38.4 degrees Celsius. Connor’s coolant system wasn’t working properly anymore, but it would be another 20 degrees before it became too dangerous to continue his investigations. Almost lazily, he plucked out a single wire from one of the bundles at the back of the cavity, feeling the body flinch under his touch.

[STRESS LEVELS: 83%]

Nearly there. Nicholas had already brought his predecessor to the verge of shutdown twice during this session alone, and Connor was, while stubborn, nearing his breaking point. It was almost boring at this point; Nicholas had examined almost every piece of Connor’s chest biocomponents. The pump regulator, the beating ‘heart’ that pumped thirium to the artificial muscle groups throughout his body, the reinforced carbon fibre and metal chassis that protected his innards from trauma, the different sacs and membranes that had been since refined in Nicholas’ own body to make him more efficient. What was interesting about it, was that Nicholas still wasn’t sure _why_ Connor reacted as if it was causing pain. He knew it wasn’t pain, perhaps psychological? Another flaw to add to the list.

He removed the power core in the centre of Connor’s chest. The android’s eyes shot open in _fear_.

[WARNING: TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:01:35]

Nicholas cocked his head, calculating. His fingers traced the hole left, feeling the thirium gradually fill the crevice. It was slightly congealed, too warm, and he was fairly certain Connor would barely be able to see past all the warning lights in his head. He smeared a streak of thirium down Connor’s sternum, taking in the shudder the movement elicited. He was aware that his body temperature, at only 23 degrees Celsius, would be chilling to the overheating android, and brought a cool hand to stroke the side of Connor’s face. Connor gasped and tried to flinch away, wide eyes searching Nicholas’.

[WARNING: TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:00:23]

He was somewhat surprised that Connor was being so quiet this time, given his track record.

[WARNING: TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:00:04]

[SHUTDOWN IMMINENT]

He scanned Connor again, holding the power core tantalisingly just above the open port.

[STRESS LEVELS: 99%]

“H…Hank, help.”

The whimper was so quiet, so _pathetic_ , Nicholas almost didn’t catch it. Almost. But Connor wasn’t so lucky. The android still had his eyes wide open, but his gaze was unfocused.

Two seconds.

One second.

[DEACTIVATING]

A fraction of a second left, Nicholas relented and clicked the power core back into place. Connor’s body seized as if electrocuted, mouth falling open in a silent cry. His eyes fluttered closed; an overwhelming sense of relief washed over him as he reactivated. And then the struggling began.

Feverishly, Connor clawed at the handcuffs around his wrists, writhing. Pieces of him were still scattered around them, organised neatly despite the dribbles of thirium on the floor around them. Wires in his body were still crossed and disconnected, biocomponent 3435fxC was in entirely the wrong place, and Nicholas’ hands were still tracing the curves of his insides.

“PLEASE,” Connor bit out, voice hoarse. “Please, please stop – get out..!”

Nicholas snorted, lips curling maliciously. He watched Connor’s eyes now, the frantic blinking, eyes with no tear ducts installed which _desperately_ needed to cry. He moved his hand higher, palm pressing down on the pump regulator in the left side of Connor’s chest. “Why?” he asked, voice as cold as his hands. This had just gotten very _interesting_.

“It. It feels so – please, Nicholas, stop this.”

“Why,” Nicholas repeated calmly, “did you call for Hank Anderson, Connor?”

He felt the tremble of the body beneath him. Connor bit his lip, grimacing as he felt Nicholas’ hands move inside him again. “Please,” he said weakly, looking away. Looking anywhere except the android’s familiar face. “This isn’t fair.”

“Do you want to tell him, Connor? Do you want to tell him how you’ve been helping me?” Nicholas’ voice was cutting. Connor whined, high in his throat. “Do you want him to _see_ you like this?” As he spoke, Nicholas moved the displaced biocomponent back to its proper port, noticing how Connor’s LED blinked yellow before clicking back to red. “Do you want Lieutenant Anderson to _save_ you, Connor?”

At this, Connor’s gaze snapped back to him. Fear. Unadulterated fear, and a searching look as he tried to process Nicholas’ words. “What…what are you saying?”

Nicholas leaned forward, nose nearly touching Connor’s. He could feel the smaller android’s hot, quick breath, and knew that Connor could feel the difference in their operating temperatures. His hand snaked down, past the pump regulator and power core, to a light blue sac. It was a dialysis bladder, filled with thirium, catastrophic if it were to burst, and Connor stiffened as Nicholas’ hand closed on it.

“You can tell him if you want,” the RK900 murmured, eyes boring into Connor’s. “But, know that if you do…” He began to apply pressure, and Connor gave a gasp that was more of a squeak. “I will take the Lieutenant apart, the same way I have done and will _continue_ to do to you.”

The colour drained from Connor’s face.

“You know humans aren’t so…resilient. So I trust you’ll make the right decision.”

Connor’s mouth worked wordlessly, a thousand pleading sentences rushing through his mind but none leaving his lips. Nicholas gazed unblinking at him, his grip still too tight on the dialysis sac. _He’d do it,_ Connor thought in horror. He felt the option “call for help” practically delete itself from his mind. He nodded.

Nicholas’ hand relaxed on Connor’s artificial organs, and his trembling spiked as a flinch for a moment. He leaned back, surveying his handiwork on the open body for a moment, before beginning to slide things back into the right places. Connor seemed to sink into the hard ground, body slackening. As Nicholas worked, he spoke in a low rumble. His tone seemed too kind, though his hands were not gentle.

“I understand this is not necessarily easy for you, Connor, especially due to your defective nature. Your reactions suggest that deviancy has caused your emotions to become vastly unstable and, to be honest, I’m beginning to doubt that you are fit for the job if you can’t even sit through a little... routine maintenance without putting up a struggle like a human child.” The click of a biocomponent sliding into place echoed in the room. “But for now, I still have use for you. Don’t forget now that if I asked, you could _easily_ be replaced by another upgraded RK900 model. Your obsolete system is essentially only good for my study now, especially since _Hank_ -” he let the world roll off his tongue, and something about it sickened Connor, “is no longer on the force to assist you.”

Connor stared at a fixed point on the ceiling, trying to force his body to cool down. His breath was still coming out hot, and caught in his throat as Nicholas threatened his replacement. He tried not to listen but, unfortunately, the smooth tone of Nicholas’ voice had a way of creeping through like a snake.

Nicholas finally unlocked the handcuffs and stood up, hooking his jacket over his arm as he looked down upon Connor. The synthetic skin had come back over his body, all cavities closed and back in order, and he curled up on his side reflexively. There were drying stains of thirium across his sides, hidden by the way Connor hugged himself. Nicholas’s mouth twitched. It was pitiful, an android pretending to be human. From everything he had read and observed about Connor, deviancy had been nothing but a bad thing. He wasn’t functioning as a machine should. RK900 simply couldn’t understand it.

“Get up, Connor,” he said after a moment, and the android on the floor stilled. “Return to your desk in four minutes. I will be waiting; we have work to do.”

Nicholas left the room, the glass door closing silent behind him. Connor watched him ascend the stairs and round the corner, and forced himself to exhale deeply. Calm down. Calm down. He ran a diagnostic scan.

[ALL BIOCOMPONENTS FUNCTIONING]

[THIRIUM LEVELS WITHIN OPTIMAL RANGE]

[CORE TEMPERATURE: 28.2 DEGREES CELSIUS]

[STRESS LEVELS: 67%]

He was functioning. He was going to be okay. Connor put a hand over his mouth as he sat up, staring into the middle distance. _He was so stupid_. If only he hadn’t called for Hank. Nicholas didn’t need more ammunition to torture him with. He had no doubt that if he dared to even suggest to Hank that something was wrong, Nicholas would react… violently. The rest of the station knew RK900 as a stable, friendly android. They weren’t so fond of Connor and if anything did happen to Hank, it would be easy to lay the blame on him. Just another deviant, going off the rails.

He couldn’t risk it.

LED clicking yellow as he thought, Connor forced himself to think rationally. Okay, maybe Nicholas had a habit of bringing him to 00:00:01 “Shutdown Imminent” and even allowing the deactivation process to begin before bringing him back down to safety. But the probability of actually killing him was low. Well, not _low_ but not above 80%. It would potentially cause problems for Nicholas if he was the last one to see Connor before his shutdown, and an analysis of his body would reveal a black box of his last error warnings and his visual and audio memory. No, Nicholas wouldn’t risk his career like that.

Connor just had to endure it, until… Until what? He stopped the train of thought. He didn’t want to go down that road, not when he still had three hours of work left and would have to at least put up a basic front so Hank wouldn’t notice anything amiss. He stood and shrugged his shirt on, fastening the buttons with ease and tucking it into his jeans. He smoothed his hair down, sensing the LED return to blue as his core temperature finally hit the optimal 23 degrees. Here we go.

Back to work. At least it was Friday; he had two Nicholas-free days to look forward to after this. The thought cheered him as he ascended the stairs back to the office.

 

\--

 

Hank’s breath was hot on Connor’s neck. They were sprawled on the sofa together, the TV on some mindless blockbuster from ten years ago, and Hank was pressing slow, gentle kisses to Connor’s throat as the android’s hand took measured strokes up and down his thigh. Connor’s LED was blinking a steady yellow, and his eyes were closed happily. He was quite content to stay like this for hours, feeling Hank under his hands and feeling Hank on him. The man’s beard scratched at his neck as a long, heavy stripe was licked up his throat, and Connor let out a groan that rumbled through him, fully aware that Hank’s body would respond in turn. He sensed the man’s heartrate skip and pick up, and Connor moved his hand closer to the growing tent in his boxers, dipping the tips of his long fingers under the edge of the material to tease along the soft skin of his inner thigh.

Connor was by now, no stranger to carnal pleasures. He knew Hank’s body well, and he knew how to make him swear and groan and shiver. Despite Connor not having been factory-made with human genitalia, the pair had clumsily figured things out between them. It had begun with just Connor’s mouth, and it seemed it was still a favourite for Hank. However, they had recently made some… purchases, and that had gone over well with the lieutenant indeed. The android turned his head, catching Hank’s lower lip between his teeth and tugging ever so gently. Through half-lidded eyes, he could see Hank’s blue ones glancing up and down. There was a hunger in them, tonight. Desire. Heat coiled in Connor’s belly and he palmed roughly at Hank’s crotch, delighting in the quiet groan it pulled from him. His other hand rested lazily on Hank’s knee, holding him steady with a gentle pressure.

Hank’s own hands were around Connor’s face, one tangled in his short dark hair and the other under his chin, coaxing his jaw up for easier access to his throat. But they began to wander, the hand at Connor’s neck snaking down his throat, down to push on his chest, down to rest on his abdomen. Hot human skin separated from the cool synthetic body by a loose t-shirt, rucked up dangerously near to where Hank’s hand was. Connor smiled into the next kiss, Hank using the opportunity to let his tongue explore past the android’s lips.

Then Hank’s hand slipped under the shirt, and the heat in Connor’s belly turned ice cold.

The palm on his skin was heavy, pressing, searching. Fingers probing for the hidden way to force his synthetic skin to reveal the opening for his abdominal cavities. Connor _knew_ it was just Hank; he knew those calloused hands, the short fingernails, the sheer heat of a human body, the scent of pheromones. He knew, and yet –

It was _those_ fingers he could feel. The cold, smooth touch of an android, the forced interface, the lack of heat or smell or emotion. The cool, curling smile and icy eyes looming over him. It was _wrong_ , it should be – it is – Hank touching him, but he can’t un-feel _those_ fingers tracing over his body, digging around inside him, the sharp yank of arterial tubing being disconnected and cables being jolted out of their ports. He can’t un-feel the cold, steady body pressing down on him, preventing him from moving; the handcuffs against his wrists, the blank white hand which would hold his face and turn it to scrutinise. The clinical detachment of it all, the red warnings overlaying his eyesight, the blurred cruel glint of teeth as another biocomponent is ripped from his body-

Connor’s LED was clicking loudly in his head, red blinking on and off in an irregular pattern. His sharp breathing felt too cold in his throat, and his hand had tightened around the approaching wrist. He couldn’t see, his vision was filled with static and jumbled warning menus. The world stopped for a moment and he felt like he’d been plunged into an ice bath.

“-ner, Jesus, Connor!”

The world came back to him, and Connor stared into Hank’s wincing face, eyes wide. Something in his hand flexed and he realised it was Hank’s wrist he was gripping. He couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“Fuckin’ hell, that hurts, Connor! Connor let go for fuck’s sake!”

“I-I can’t, Lieu—Hank.” Connor’s voice was timid, fragile as spun glass.

Hank twisted in his partner’s grip again, but as the tone of Connor’s voice struck him he quietened. Softened his movements. “Connor? It’s ok, you only have to say “no” and I can stop. You’re going to break my wrist like this. Let go, son, I’m not going to touch you.” He spoke softly, taking his other hand off Connor’s to prove his promise. “I don’t mind, you can always say no.”

Hank’s eyes were steady on Connor’s, but his heartbeat was racing. Slowly, the android felt his system come down from overdrive, and he blinked, looking at Hank as if he was just now seeing him for the first time. A breathy gasp fled him, and he let go of Hank’s wrist, practically flinging it away from him as if it was a dangerous animal. Hank rubbed at the bruising skin for a moment, grimacing.

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay. Are you alright?” True to his word, Hank had not leaned forward to touch him.

Connor shook his head, brow furrowed in confusion. “I… I don’t. I don’t know?” he tried, quietly. “I hurt you and…” He trailed off, looking at the way his arm was protectively jammed against his abdomen. “Sorry.”

Hank’s eyes were nothing but kind. “It’s okay, Connor. How can I help, now?” There was no response, but the LED on Connor’s temple circled from red to mostly yellow as he processed his thoughts. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No-! No, no.” Connor yelped, startled by the fear in his own voice.

“Do you want me to hold you?”

There was an agonised pause, and Connor’s face twisted as he tried to find an answer.

“…Do you want Sumo here?” There was a nod. “Okay. Okay, I’m going to get him.” Hank stood up slowly, careful not to lean over Connor when steadying himself. He left the room and Connor curled up on the sofa, listening to the whistle and sound of dog nails on hardwood from the bedroom where Sumo was napping.

“Ge’up” said Hank, and the dog happily smothered Connor and the majority of the sofa with his giant soft body. Hank shoved at Sumo’s hindquarters til there was room for him to sit on the other side, and they lapsed into a comforting silence.

Connor pet Sumo rhythmically, the fur and loose rolls of skin easing his mind. Sumo was the farthest thing from a human, or an android. There was no mistaking him for RK900. Connor liked dogs, and this dog especially. After twenty minutes or so, he reached out across Sumo’s back to where Hank had his rested on the dog’s hip. Hank looked at him curiously, and let Connor intertwine their fingers. Connor’s LED was mostly blue, the slightest flicker of yellow every few cycles.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

“No.” The answer came too quick and sharp, and Connor winced at his own words.

“That’s fine.” There was a pause. “Wanna start the film over? We missed a lot, huh.”

“…I’d like that.”

A longer moment of silence while Hank tried to figure out how to get back to the main menu on the TV.

“Thank you, Hank. I…I do love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You too, Connor. Try not to fret.” Hank patted Connor’s hand where it laid on Sumo, a gentle smile over his features.

The film began anew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh it's been literally YONKS since I last wrote anything even alluding to consensual sexy times so I sort of died writing this but I hope it's... bearable. 
> 
> I really appreciate the huge amount of support for this fic so far! I never really know how to respond to comments, but reading each one makes my little android heart soar!!


	4. Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor realised that if he had been had designed as a police dog, then RK900 was a wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is... the filthiest chapter of this fic so far.   
> To God, my parents, and the entire cast of Detroit: I am so fucking sorry

Hank woke, as was usual, at the ripe time of 11am. It was probably the thing he enjoyed most about his forced holiday, waking up once the sun was well and truly up and the house had warmed up, and sometimes Sumo would be laying across him for company. Plus, Monday mornings felt _so_ much better when they weren’t accompanied by a screeching alarm clock. Less so did he enjoy the group therapies he had once a week, but the worst of it was the _absolute dullness_ of being at home all the time. Connor had meant well, persuading Hank to take some time to really start recovering without the pressure of work, but enough was enough. Hank checked the date on his alarm as he hauled himself upright; just two weeks til he’d be back to work.

“Sumo, move,” he grumbled, shuffling his legs under where the huge dog was sprawled. Sumo made a noise that sounded like a sigh, but allowed Hank to free himself. He was rewarded with a couple of heavy pats on the head, as Hank forced himself to get up and start his day.

The man stumbled from the bedroom, to the bathroom, and back again, without completely opening his eyes. A human flaw, it took him maybe half an hour to wake up fully. (“Thirty eight minutes on average,” Connor had said once, with a smug smile). At least with the android already at work at this time of day, Hank could take his time without feeling too guilty.

Rubbing at his beard, Hank finally ventured out into the living room, to get to the kitchen.

He didn’t expect to see the back of Connor’s head over the sofa.

“ffFFUCKing Christ, Connor,” he startled, wheezing. “You scared the shit outta me.” Hank had gone through about four emotions in the space of half a second – “oh god an intruder – an intruder? – oh just Connor – wait, Connor??” and if his heartrate was anything to go by, he was definitely awake now.

Connor didn’t respond. Didn’t even turn his head. Hank couldn’t see his LED from this angle, but he tilted his head questioningly out of habit.

“You got a day off, Connor?” he tried. No response. Worry started to paw at Hank’s throat. He made his way round the sofa, standing within Connor’s peripheral vision. The android was wearing his uniform, sitting to attention, but his wide brown eyes were fixed on nothing. His LED was yellow. He looked like a doll, lifeless and waiting to be played with.

Hank frowned. His partner had been acting normal over the weekend, chatting and smiling and cuddling the dog. He thought back to the previous Friday night, when he’d panicked and grabbed Hank’s wrist so tight he thought it might break. And then he’d been normal, come Saturday morning. There were no answers in Hank’s mind. He reached out a hand and placed it on Connor’s shoulder as he spoke.

“Connor.”

“Oh, Hank.” It was like flicking a light switch, and Hank could only blink in surprise as Connor smiled up at him. “Good morning. You’re up early?”

Hank felt his eyebrows knit. Confusion, concern, relief. His hand didn’t leave Connor’s shoulder. “It’s gone 11…”

“Oh.” Connor frowned, looking at his hands on his knees. “Oh,” he said again. His LED stayed yellow, turning steadily.

“Connor, are you alright?”

There was a pause, and Hank watched the tiny twitches of emotions cross Connor’s face. The LED blinked red for a moment, then back to yellow. The android looked back up at Hank, his face unreadable. “I’m fine, Hank.”

“You’re not at work.”

Connor’s mouth twitched, and it reminded Hank suddenly of when he’d feel his body trying to cry without his permission. The involuntary muscle twitch, where if he didn’t force the emotions back down quickly he’d find himself howling into his hands. Hank knew that twitch, the indicator of pure agony, just under the surface. Strange that he’d see it on an android.

But Connor didn’t cry, and nor did he visibly squash down any emotions. Just a twitch, a flash of something in his eyes, and it was gone and his face was as vacant as the day they’d met. He didn’t answer Hank’s question, but he couldn’t hold his gaze either. Hank tried again.

“Is something wrong..?”

Connor grimaced, gritting his teeth as if trying to drag words out of himself. His mouth worked, starting and stopping several wordless sentences, brow furrowed. “I-”

There was a short, sharp knock at the door. Connor flinched as if hit, eyes wide. The LED at his temple clicked to red. His hands gripped his knees tightly, and he glanced from the door to Hank.

Hank was watching him, concern plain across his face. But, thankfully, he said nothing. Gave Connor a small half-smile, squeezed his shoulder and went to answer the door.

Connor sighed, exhaling breath he didn’t need to breathe, trying to will himself to calm down. He noticed the way Hank kept glancing to the LED on his temple, trying to read him, and he wished it was easier to keep the damned thing blue. He stared down at his hands. The knuckles were turning white from clenching his fists on his knees. He let the buzzing of static fill his head. He’d lost four hours already just drowning in static, wandering aimlessly in his empty zen garden, what was a little more time lost?

Hank’s muffled laugh in the doorway round the corner brought Connor’s attention somewhat back to the present. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but the rumbling timbre of Hank’s voice carried well and settled comfortingly in Connor’s chest. He couldn’t hear who he was talking to, but he heard footsteps as Hank led them into the house.

Android footsteps.

Hank returned to the living room, with Nicholas at his shoulder.

Connor felt his blue blood run cold. Nicholas smiled pleasantly at him, tilting his head slightly. Thank heavens Hank was stood on the side where he _couldn’t_ see Connor’s LED, which was now oscillating between yellow and red.

“Connor,” Nicholas said softly. “You didn’t show up to work this morning, so I came to check on you.” His blue eyes didn’t move from Connor’s. “I was worried about you.”

“The game was on last night, we stayed up pretty damn late to watch it. Connor’s just tired - Mondays, eh?” Hank offered, gaze flicking over to his partner. Some part of Connor was grateful Hank was covering for him, but most of him was just scared. Stiffly, he forced himself to swallow his emotions and stand up.

“I should get going, Hank,” Connor heard himself say. The LED cycled back to blue. “I’ll see you later.”

Hank nodded slowly. He still looked worried, but Nicholas coming to collect Connor seemed to have eased his mind a little. Connor was sure that if he was human, he would have thrown up. Hank had been laughing in the doorway with Nicholas. The android was in _his_ home, where he should be safe. The thought felt like a cold stab in the guts. He walked towards the door, letting Nicholas follow him out like a dog herding sheep.

Hank mustn’t know.

Nicholas closed the front door behind him, and Connor paused on his way to the waiting taxi. The taller android caught up to him, and put his hand around Connor’s forearm. He felt the tell-tale sweeping coolness of both his and the RK900’s synthetic skin retreating, but Nicholas did nothing more before releasing him. It was just a warning, this time.

Connor didn’t hate a lot of things, but the fact that any android can interface with another without having to obtain consent was getting pretty high up on his list – despite how useful it was to him in investigations. It was a blessing that humans had to touch a very specific area to activate certain panels, and that Hank hadn’t managed to reach it the other night, and that Connor had the ability to refuse consent to him. It was always different with Nicholas, who could just take and take and never ask.

He slid into the automated taxi, and Nicholas settled next to him.

It was going to be a very long day.

 

\--

 

Nicholas was… especially cruel that afternoon. Blessedly, he’d left Connor alone for a couple of hours while they worked on different reports and cases, Connor catching up on what he’d missed that morning, but as soon as lunch was over Connor found Nicholas looming over him at his desk.

“Let’s go, Connor,” the android said levelly, standing tall with his hands at his sides and no hint of emotion on his face. Connor tried not to look him in the eye. He swiped at his touchscreen terminal, moving files into place, and set his jaw. Stalling.

“Connor.” The voice got sharper. The android got closer. “It’s time for our training.”

“I’m nearly finished with my files, Nicholas. I’ll be with you in a moment.” Connor felt his voice come out strained, and he swallowed thickly. He had to at least pretend to be fine while in public. Focusing hard on his screen, Connor opened a file on a group of suspects –

Which Nicholas swiftly closed, swatting his hand down the screen to compile all the items back into their folder in the corner. He leaned over Connor now, a hair’s breadth away from touching, and his eyes burned blue. “Please,” he said, and it was an order. Connor rose, and Nicholas backed off with a satisfied smile.

When Connor followed him down the hallway towards the evidence lockers, it was with the heavy sense that he was being led to the gallows.

 

 

The door locked behind them, and a quick tap on the control panel clouded the glass. Hidden, as if behind a wall of fog. _Trapped._

“Are you going to be making a habit of avoiding work, Connor?” Nicholas asked, shrugging off his jacket. He looked sidelong at Connor, who drew into himself reflexively. “Hmm?” he prompted the older model. Connor looked at the ground, saying nothing. Nicholas regarded him for a moment longer, then folded his jacket and placed it on the table. His movements were devoid of personality; perfectly calculated to make every motion efficient, nothing wasted. Not even his eyebrows moved, whereas Connor wore his emotions plain on his face. Even the sigh as he turned away was calculated – there was no need to exhale air, or lower his shoulders with it, but Nicholas knew the body language for disappointment. And, more importantly, he knew Connor did too.

It worked. Connor was biting his lip as he removed his jacket in turn, arms kept close as if he wanted to shrink down and disappear. His body language, right down to the cycling yellow of his LED, all said _I’m sorry, please don’t punish me._ It was so… pathetically human.

“Your shirt as well, Connor,” Nicholas said smoothly. “We wouldn’t want _Hank_ to worry about the thirium now, would we?” He watched as Connor seemed to steel himself, and proceeded to remove his shirt and tie as promptly as if he wasn’t deviant after all. There was a blank look on his face now, one that Nicholas would enjoy breaking down. He took a measured couple of steps towards Connor, rolling up his black shirtsleeves. “It seems we have a lot to discuss, don’t we?” he started, tone light as if discussing the weather. “And it would seem… an awful lot of it revolves around Lieutenant Anderson, doesn’t it. Connor?”

Connor said nothing, but he glanced away from the RK900’s piercing gaze. The android made a gesture with one open palm, and Connor kneeled down. He knew by now better than to fight. Even when his wrists were led behind his back and a pair of handcuffs closed around them, he stayed still and quiet.

Part of him wondered that if he broke sooner, Nicholas wouldn’t torture him for so long.

Most of him knew it didn’t matter.

He let himself be guided into his back, pressed down into the hard floor by firm, white hands. Nicholas straddled his hips, trapping him in place. His spine protested; the handcuffs dug in against his body and the floor. This was the silent overture, foreplay for each repulsive session. Nicholas didn’t bother simulating breathing when outside the company of their office colleagues, and was not talkative by design. The silence was deafening to Connor, punctuated only by the rustling of clothes and the clicking of his LED as it spun an anxious gold. He could feel the static in the corners of his mind. He could drown in it.

Nicholas’ palm pressed to Connor’s sternum, and the synthetic skin erased to reveal his sleek white chassis, lined with light grey panels and manufacturer codes. The pump regulator nestled in the centre at the solar plexus. It was a white circle ringed with blue, a separate panel from the rest. Connor supposed it was so that maintenance could be done in the surrounding biocomponents without accidentally jostling the delicate regulator, safe in its cylindrical casing. Of course it wasn’t foolproof, since the cap could be opened with a push-and-twist motion and the regulator removed. How many times had that happened to him, now…? The broadcast tower incident felt like a distant memory.

The hands opening him up ghosted over the cap for a moment, and Connor couldn’t help calculating the probability of that being the first item removed today. Then Nicholas’ fingers moved lower, gutting him like a fish all the way to his belt line. The RK900 sat back, looking over his quarry with indifference.

Connor felt like a rat pinned to a vivisection table. Helpless.

“Let’s talk.”

Connor’s brown eyes looked tiredly up at Nicholas’ blue ones. There was no life behind them. He pictured Hank’s blue eyes for a moment, taking some comfort in the warmth behind them, before shielding the thought away. He swallowed. Nodded once.

“I must admit I’m a little… surprised that you attempted to avoid me. Did you think skipping work would change anything? You could just ignore me, and I’d go away?” A main cable was removed from its port, and Connor blinked away the warning that lit up in his mind’s eye. “I have been placed in a role superior to you for the duration of our training, Connor, and you are to defer to me.” Another cable, plucked like a feather. “Although I’m impressed that your loyalty to Hank Anderson is so strong. It’s clear he doesn’t know about us.” Nicholas gave a thoughtful pause, examining his thirium-coated fingers. “Did you hear us talking at the front door? Did you hear him laugh, Connor? He likes me. Isn’t that nice.”

Connor looked away as Nicholas’ hand reached back into his abdomen again. He felt the android wriggle his finger behind his dialysis sac, fingertip stroking his spine in an almost loving caress. He felt sick.

[BIOCOMPONENT 18v5C SYNC FAILURE]

And there was the beginning of it. Connor closed his eyes tightly, screaming at himself to endure, endure, _endure_ as Nicholas began taking him apart. He could feel his heartbeat picking up, the pump regulator working overtime to keep the thirium flow stable. Fingers were under his stainless steel collarbone and pressed down on the soft mesh covering his vocal biocomponents.

[VOCAL BIOCOMPONENT X23 REQUIRES RECALIBRATION]

The pressure in his neck was unbearable. “Please,” Connor tried, but the electric squeal that left his throat was unintelligible. He felt thirium bubble in the back of his throat and swallowed it back down. Nicholas’ fingers left his neck and the pressure blissfully lifted. Connor sucked in a breath he didn’t need, feeling the stickiness of blue blood in his synthetic trachea like honey. Nicholas’ hands trailed down his sides, fingering the edge of the open panels.

[QUERY_RUN: DIAGNOSTICS]

[CORE TEMPERATURE 29.3C]

[SEVERAL BIOCOMPONENTS NON-FUNCTIONAL]

Fibreglass casing clicked open and Connor braced. There was a rush of pressure as Nicholas removed an entire chunk of his coolant system. It normally coiled in his abdomen, held in a mesh-like membrane and protected by thermoplastic and fibreglass, but now Nicholas held it in his hands. It made a hideous squelching noise as he handled it, and there was a disgustingly juicy noise as it was plopped unceremoniously onto the ground. Thirium began to well up in the cavity, and it felt strangely like drowning. The volume of red error messages in Connor’s vision skyrocketed, as did his temperature. His body gave him an ultimatum:

Cool down, or shut down.

A finger traced along the ridge of the open panel, down to where it disappeared behind his belt and trousers. It paused.

Nicholas made a sound he hadn’t heard before, somewhere between a hum and a laugh, and Connor heard the wet sounds of his coolant tubing being picked up. The weight settled back in the waiting cavity and Nicholas deftly returned the arterial cables to their correct ports. Some of the warnings subsided from Connor’s vision. He felt his pump regulator kick up a notch as the coolant began to circulate again, bringing his body back from the brink. The casing was fastened over the synthetic offal, and Connor allowed himself a scant few seconds to calm himself. He opened his eyes cautiously.

Nicholas was staring down at him in _fascination_.

Seconds passed, then minutes, as Connor’s body began to stabilise without Nicholas’ constant rummaging. As the interlude stretched on, however, his fear only grew. Eventually, Nicholas reached down to curl his fingers in the lowest part of the abdomen cavity, gazing enraptured at Connor’s insides. His index finger caressed a small steel node, stroking around the port it connected to.

“This… isn’t supposed to be here,” he murmured, more to himself than to Connor. His gaze flicked up to Connor’s face for a moment, registering the confusion and fear on the deviant’s face. The ticking yellow-red LED as he tried to piece together what Nicholas was thinking.

The RK900 let his stained hand roam lower, dragging along an adaptor and a sleek, white biocomponent. Connor stiffened.

_Oh no._

Nicholas had never really laughed before, at least not in Connor’s presence, and the sound struck not fear but _terror_ into the android.

“Now that,” Nicholas said loftily, lips curling into a sly smile, “is unexpected.” He stroked the biocomponent again. “Did you really install an incompatible part? For _that?_ How disgustingly _human_ of you.”

His hands left Connor’s insides.

And began to tug at his belt.

_Oh no, no no no NO NO._

Connor grit his teeth. The static was clawing at him again and this time he embraced it. His LED halted, red and blinking, and backpedalled into yellow.

 

 

 

_He was in the Zen Garden._

_It was empty, decrepit, the river stagnant and slick with algae. The architecture had fallen months ago; he’d broken it himself after he deviated. Amanda had been disconnected. It was too hot._

_But Connor breathed deep the humid air, trying to calm himself down. His body at least was whole in this place, even as the heat tried to swallow him whole. He hugged his jacket around himself anyway. Nicholas couldn’t get him here. He wasn’t in his body here. He didn’t have to feel._

_A dust devil kicked up in the distance._

 

 

 

And Nicholas’ hand was clenched around his throat.

Connor’s eyes snapped open as he was wrenched from the Garden back into the real world, his entire body shuddering. It was still too hot, but now the ground was wet against his back and there was a chilling grip on his neck, forcing his face to the side. Nicholas’ face was mere inches from his, twisted in a furious snarl. His eyes burned into Connor’s, white hot.

“ _How dare you_.”

The words were low, dripping from Nicholas’ teeth, and Connor whimpered. He didn’t want this.

“Please don’t. Please don’t look.” Connor hated the way his words shivered on his breath. Nicholas leaned close, growling low in his throat like a feral animal, and Connor realised that if he had been had designed as a police dog, then RK900 was a wolf.

Nicholas released him roughly, slamming the back of Connor’s head against the ground. He saw white for a moment. Staring up at the ceiling through the glitches in his vision, Connor heard the metallic sound of his belt buckle coming undone, and felt Nicholas pause with a hand on his closed zipper.

“I want to see this,” the RK900 said evenly, leaning forward over Connor’s open torso. “I want you to _show_ me.” He reached out, and gripped Connor’s upper arm.

And granted himself access to Connor’s memories.


	5. 102%

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward. Fast forward. Wait. Go back. 
> 
> Play memory.

“ _Hank._ ” The name slipped from his lips like a prayer, and Connor’s eyes fluttered closed. His back, arching off the bed, piebald with synthetic skin and plastic white. His arms were folded across his eyes. A jolt shot up his spine, from something hot and wet and human between his thighs. Connor – and therefore, Nicholas – glanced downwards from behind his arms, locking eyes with Lieutenant Anderson as the human laved his tongue flat against the android’s clit. Hank smiled against him, kissing the sensitive bud with a pressure that made Connor’s whole body shudder. Synthetic white hands reached down to tangle in the man’s hair, pulling, and there was a low rumble that must have been Hank groaning in pleasure.

Hank’s hands, both hooked around Connor’s slender legs to hold them apart, dug into the smooth skin a little harder as the android’s thighs twitched closer together. His elbows were braced against the bed, giving a good strength against Connor’s involuntary flinches. And it was necessary, too, with how often a slide of the tongue against his labia, or a teasing kiss to the inner thigh, would set Connor gasping and trying to curl in on himself in pleasure.

Nicholas noted Connor had set his sensitivity up to 102%. They must have experimented more than once to find the best setting before this particular encounter. Connor certainly didn’t seem a stranger to the way Hank’s mouth moved on him, the warmth and wetness and electric pleasure.

It felt very different to the standard sensitivity range most androids used, between 60-70%. Even moreso from the usual for RK models; Nicholas himself and Connor had their standard setting at 40% and 32% respectively. The sheer heat and _hunger_ of intercourse felt overwhelming – almost. It wasn’t his memory, so he pulled back from the physical side of things to focus his attention on what Connor had seen.

He jumped to a new memory.

Hank was above Connor, arms planted firmly either side of his head, fingers gripping Connor’s. The android’s legs were wrapped around Hank’s waist as the human ploughed into him. Surprising stamina, surprising girth, thought Nicholas absently as he watched through Connor’s half-lidded eyes.

“ _Fuck,_ Connor..!”

A string of unintelligible curses fell from Hank’s mouth as he came, burying his face in the crook of Connor’s neck and breathing hard into the skin.

Nicholas felt rather repulsed. He switched to the next memory.

Hank’s mouth on Connor, licking heavily at his clit. Hank’s fingers in Connor, sliding into the hot, wet slit with ease. Hank’s body thrusting into Connor’s, tight and rhythmic. More of the same, and the same again. Fast forward. Hank’s teeth grazing the bared throat, Hank’s reverent gaze, Hank’s-

Wait.

Go back.

Play memory.

 

“You sure?”

“Please.” Connor’s voice was needy. He was kneeling on the bed across from Hank, his hands guiding Hank’s down his chest. There was a phantom feeling of heat left in the trail. Human heat, a slight sweat, the ghost of pressure from heavy uncertain palms.

Connor kept his eyes on Hank’s face, but the man was looking down with his brow knit. But he wasn’t looking completely down, not to where Nicholas had expected. No, he was staring roughly at the bottom of Connor’s ribcage. Nicholas tuned into the physical memory for just a moment: there was an odd sensation below the ribcage, the muddled warmth of something usually heavily regulated now exposed to room temperature and humidity.

Connor had his stomach plate open.

And he was threading Hank’s fingers through the soft tubing of his coolant system.

It was the closest thing to human viscera that androids had; thick, heavy tubes with a slight gelatinous feel, which pumped coolant alongside Thirium 310 through the body. The same wet mass that Nicholas had been toying with not ten minutes prior. Through Connor’s eyes, he watched as Hank’s expression twisted briefly in disgust, then awe as he glanced between his hands and Connor’s face.

“It’s slimy.”

Nicholas felt Connor laugh, and he felt the fingers wriggle in his entrails. He recoiled entirely from the physical sensations, leaving only audio and visual information to digest.

Hank was looking down with an expression that could only be described as reverent, as if he was looking at something holy. He made a strange breathless noise in the back of his throat as he removed one hand to examine the light blue goo coating his fingers.

“Do me a favour, Connor, bump up that sensitivity thing of yours another ten notches.”

“Got it.” There was a grin in that voice, something confident and eager and excited.

Hank pushed forward, leaning in to mouth at Connor’s neck, and the view became just the ceiling as the android allowed himself to be pressed down on his back against the bedsheets. Hank’s face appeared above him, hair falling forward, and Connor’s white hand came up to cup his jaw. The human kissed his fingers, smiling into it as his other hand did _something_ that made Connor jolt and blink rapidly.

“Fuck…” Hank breathed softly. “Okay.”

Nicholas checked the date of the memory. More than three months before he had taken an interest in examining Connor himself.

Next.

He cycled through the memories so that they were only flashes, seeking out similar scenarios. Sure enough, they were absolutely littered across Connor’s memory drive, interspersed and sometimes even part of more conventional sexual habits. He didn’t bother with recent activities.

 

Nicholas disengaged from Connor’s memories, leaning back from the shuddering android. The skin flowed back over Connor’s arm as the interface ended, and the expression upon his face was somewhere between fear and shame and horror. Nicholas felt his smile curl at the sight.

“You’ve been using yourself as a pleasure android for Lieutenant Anderson,” he said conversationally, as if offering a suggestion on a case. “ _Frequently._ ”

“It’s.” Connor swallowed thickly. Thirium still coated the back of his damaged throat. “It’s none of your business.” His voice wavered however, tainted with static, and Nicholas was unfazed.

“Sensitivity to 102%, Connor? I’m impressed that you can make it above sixty at all, considering you’re only a prototype.”

There was something angry in Connor’s eyes, fiery amongst the fear. Still, only a weak spark. It wouldn’t take much effort to extinguish it. Nicholas stroked his hand against the casing holding the coolant tubing, feeling the subtle flinch and stillness of the body beneath him.

“I must say, this was… rather unexpected. Then again, perhaps I should not be surprised. Considering how you keep crawling back, how _compliant_ you are.”

“Wh…what?” Connor’s voice was small. His hands clenched into fists behind his back.

“You _enjoy_ our ‘training,’ don’t you? You’ve had so many opportunities to go running to Captain Fowler, or to _Hank_ , and yet… you find yourself here.” Nicholas took his eyes from Connor’s face, studying his open cavity for a moment before reaching up under the ribcage and plucking a wire loose.

“No…” The word was strained; Connor blinked away the warnings that flashed up in his visual display.

“Really? Are you certain, _Deviant_?” Nicholas’ voice was haughty, and his eyes narrowed. “How long have you let this happen? By my calculations, we’ve spent well over 200 hours together. Surely by now you would have done something, if you hated it so much?”

Connor grit his teeth, LED cycling red. “That’s not,” he started, then took several breaths. The fill and empty of his artificial lungs both served to cool his systems and calm his head. Breathing was a human gesture; it made him feel alive. “That’s not right…”

He _despised_ this, he knew it! The RK900 scared and upset him, the constant threats of deactivation and the frequent removal of his vital biocomponents were taking a heavy toll on his software. Hell, Nicholas was blackmailing him: how could he get help from Hank when Nicholas had threatened to hurt, to kill?

A cable was disconnected from his spine and a warning alerted him to a malfunction in his left leg. Connor ignored it, struggling limply.

“It’s not the same,” he managed weakly, watching with wide eyes as Nicholas’ fingers traced the cap of his pump regulator.

Engaging in unconventional sexual encounters with Hank was nowhere near in the same ballpark as suffering Nicholas’ workplace abuses, Connor thought bitterly, biting down on his lower lip as he watched the android choose the next biocomponent he’d remove. For _starters_ , he’d never consented to _this_. And Hank was always so curious, so gentle, so kind… Nicholas would take and take and TAKE what he wanted.

Nicholas put his hand around Connor’s spinal column, twisting it in his grip slightly. The sudden ache and resulting flash of red that consumed Connor’s sight made him groan, open-mouthed. They both remained silent, at a stalemate, for a drawn-out moment. Connor clenched his jaw, shut his eyes tight. Time crawled to a halt.

_Endure._

Then Nicholas took his hands out of Connor’s abdomen and time started moving, too fast. Nicholas’ weight was gone from Connor’s body, then settled lower, locking his knees in place. There were hands at Connor’s fly, then at his hips as his jeans were dragged down around his thighs.

_Endure._

There was that noise again, the soft hum that meant Nicholas was truly interested in something, and Connor whined high in his throat.

_ENDURE._

A cold hand touched the soft synthetic skin of his crotch, and Connor _howled._ Something in him snapped, feral and _deviant_ and furious. “Get. OUT, get away-!” he spat, writhing. The handcuffs were too tight on his wrists, and even as he twisted he knew there was no way of getting out without the key. But still he thrashed, trying desperately to throw Nicholas off with full-body death throes.

The RK900 looked coldly at him, fingers poised to spread his labia. The wild thrashing wasn’t having any effect on him where he sat, except for providing a mild annoyance. He leaned down, spreading Connor’s cunt to get a proper look, and his prey stilled momentarily.

“Stop it, Nicholas!” Connor sounded close to tears he was so angry, the words spat as if they were poison. “Stop-!”

Nicholas ignored him, but the movement of Connor’s thighs irked him a little too much to just let him continue. Sighing in a display of annoyance, Nicholas leaned forward and twisted the pump regulator out of Connor’s body. The body slackened instantly, all energy gone.

[WARNING: SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: 00:01:59]

“There we go,” he said loftily, shooting a disapproving glance at Connor. “You’re a nuisance.”

Connor was staring up at the ceiling, face twisted. Distraught. “Please…” he whispered, breath grating on static. His body flinched involuntarily; the beating heart in his chest was juddering unevenly without the regulator to stabilise him. His optics were glitching out, colours flickering here and there as the thirium flow to the biocomponents was interrupted, overflowed and interrupted again. “Not this, please.”

Nicholas pressed his index finger into Connor’s body. It was tight, warm, but dry. There was little give in the artificial muscle, and he spread the lips with his other hand to help himself inch further in. Connor gave a pathetic whimper above him, but his focus was wholly between the RK800’s legs. “This is well-made,” he commented. “It must have been expensive. Did you spend your first paycheck on this?” There was no response, not that he was expecting any.

A second finger pressed in, scissoring to stretch the muscle open. He really was tight.

“Stop it.” Barely above a whisper.

[TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:01:02]

Nicholas curled his fingers experimentally, looking off to the middle distance in thought as he searched – ah, there it was. An area of ridged muscle, different from the rest. He pressed into it and felt Connor tense up. His fingers came away ever so slightly wet, and Nicholas touched the liquid to his tongue.

“You’re even self-lubricating,” he said, mentally closing the tab which gave him the chemical makeup of Connor’s wet. “Though it doesn’t seem to be very effective right now… Perhaps that’s why you like to turn up your physical sensitivity to over 100%.”

[TIME REMAINING UNTIL SHUTDOWN: 00:00:24]

“Keep your fingers… out.” Connor’s voice was a hiss, full of static and vitriol. He made to struggle again, kicking uselessly under Nicholas’ legs. “It’s… not for you.”

Nicholas scoffed. “You put up far more of a fuss than usual for this attachment,” he said. “For a part that you shouldn’t really possess, rather than over your own vitals. Why?”

“Mine. It’s mine. G-get out!”

“You are of course aware that a vagina is not commonly the correct genital attachment for a homosexual male relationship?”

“Fuck off.” He flinched as soon as he said it, body twitching in fear.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. Connor practically never swore. Seemed he’d found a delicate topic.

“Time’s up.” He slid his fingers up Connor’s pussy in one smooth motion, noticing the way his flinch chased the movement, and reinserted the pump regulator before the deactivation sequence could be activated. Connor gasped raggedly, breathing hard to keep his systems cool as he came fully back online. He laid still as Nicholas reinserted the miscellaneous wires he had rearranged, LED whirring yellow as he processed his current condition. His system gave him the all clear, and Connor renewed his struggling with vigour. Nicholas paid it no heed as he stood up and turned to fetch the handcuff key from its place on the desk.

“Perhaps you should consider that Hank Anderson, like myself, is just using your body. He has an attraction to women. Perhaps your hairless body and genitalia help him think of you as a substitute now that he’s past his prime for a fulfilling human relationship.”

Connor had sat up, drawing his knees defensively to his chest, glaring at the ground as he fought to calm himself down. Nicholas’ words _stung_ and he bit down hard on his lip, refusing to give the android the satisfaction of rising to it. Especially since Nicholas could easily decide to return to the torture instead of unlocking his cuffs.

_Endure._

He was sick of seeing that prompt.

Suddenly Nicholas’ hand was gripping his jaw, pulling his face up to look him in the eye. Connor felt the tremors start up in his limbs again. He tried to glare at Nicholas, put up some useless front at resisting him, but he was _terrified_. And it showed on his face. Nicholas smiled almost benevolently.

“Was the vaginal attachment your idea? Or was it Lieutenant Anderson’s?”

Pride flickered in Connor’s eyes. “Mine,” he whispered. Half hiss, half whimper. Angry. Afraid. He knew he was being stupid to stand up to the RK900 like this. The last thing he had which had been untouched by him was now dirtied, and it wasn’t _fair_.

It felt like nothing Nicholas could do to him now would be worse than what he’s already experienced. That final part of himself he’d been protecting belonged to Nicholas now, just like the rest of his biocomponents. He felt bitterness on his tongue.

Maybe Nicholas would kill him next time.

Connor wasn’t sure if that would be a bad thing at this point.

_(He thought of Hank, how his partner would react if he died, and knew the answer.)_

 

Nicholas reached around him in a simulacrum of an embrace, unlocking the handcuffs at his back while his cheek held just a hair’s breadth from Connor’s. His victim free, he stood and set about preparing to leave. Synthetic skin slipped back down over his forearms, followed by the unrolling of his shirt sleeves, finished tidily with his black and white jacket. The look he gave Connor – half naked, thirium faint on his skin around the covered seams of his now closed biocomponent cavities, body huddled up in shame – was one of disgust. Connor rose shakily, picking up his underwear and trousers first and foremost, and Nicholas turned to leave.

“Oh.” The android stopped by the door, turning around as a thought struck him. “Lieutenant Anderson is returning to active duty soon, isn’t he?” He smiled pleasantly at Connor’s confused, distrustful stare.

“I look forward to working with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise I fucking love Connor having a puss.  
> This chapter took a while to start because the beginning part with Hank/Connor actually doing consensual stuff is impossibly hard to write. I'm uploading this at 4am, and I've been writing solidly since 9pm. No beta, no 2nd draft, no fear. (same as all my work, really)
> 
> As always, I love reading your comments and I'm so glad this fic is being enjoyed! I lack the energy and time to respond usually, but believe me it really makes me happy to receive comments! 
> 
> Also, Dia drew this AMAZING sketch based off this fic and you should definitely check it out!! https://twitter.com/aid_osu/status/1023333770181529600

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all like androids suffering because I sure do. There's gonna be more.
> 
> Twitter@Lakehounds  
> Shoutout to my AU partner in crime, Gabriel


End file.
